Ten Year Reunion
by Vanillabeancobain
Summary: Lawndale high's promising class of 2000 is having its ten year reunion. Original title, I know.


Disclaimer:

Daria is property of MTV. I'm simply a cog in their wheel of consumer driven madness.

TEN YEAR REUNION

Chapter 1.

Driven to distraction.

She checked her bag again. Her keys, purse, iPod and phone were all there. Plus a few books, obviously, though she doubted she'd have time to read them on this trip seeing as she was making the drive herself. Plane tickets were an expensive commodity. She hated the noise, the crowded spaces, the lines, the food…. The _idiots_ surrounding her on mass as she would inevitably be seated between another obese, enthusiastically chatting pair of imbeciles who would bump her elbows off the seat rests and get up every fifteen minutes of the flight. No, driving gave her the solitude she needed. '_plus,'_ she reminded herself '_it was only a few hours to Lawndale'._

In the meantime, she preoccupied herself with checking that everything was in place. She'd checked her suitcase the night before and this morning again. Twice. Check. She'd packed hand sanitiser (in case of horrific public restrooms on her stop overs), change for tollbooths and plenty of bottled water. Check. She'd packed… oh _God, _she was turning into her _mother._ She shuddered inwardly, and slid into the driver's seat, slamming the door behind her. With a wheezing sound which could only indicate to a service being overdue, she backed out of the driveway and started the mind numbing drive ahead of her.

It was her ten year reunion this year. A fact that made her feel older without really being much wiser. Change and growth are inevitable once you drain away the embryonic fluid that is highschool, but it didn't feel different enough to possible be noticeable. Sure, she had better social skills now, but anyone with half a functioning brain in their head would have developed better social skills than the dog-eat-dog world of teenage hormones and warring cliques. She'd only stayed in touch with a few people from Lawndale since leaving ten years earlier. Each year the trip home for Christmas or Thanksgiving got delayed a little more until eventually her parents stopped trying to nag her for family dinners and would wait until she decided to see an old friend or retrieve something from her old bedroom.

Then there was college. Oh, college. People told her constantly throughout her adolescence that it would "all come together in college" and in a way, it had. Finally, she met boys who could be reasonably attractive _without_ the lacking personality or intellect of the Neanderthals in high school. It was impossible to be the black sheep knowing that black sheep from every other high school in the country would end up in one of your classes with you. Or at least on campus somewhere. Other than that, it was unremarkable. She did her assignments, she sat for exams and she graduated with predictably high marks and a piece of paper that only tens of thousands of dollars and several years of experimenting with sex, alcohol and the effect of sleeplessness on the human brain could buy. She smiled at the memory, but only slightly.

After passing through another street with nondescript houses and another highway with nondescript paddocks and nothingness, she decided to stop at a roadhouse to get something to eat. The possibility of drinking coffee made this _almost_ feel like a worthwhile decision, especially as she knew how revolting the bathrooms would be and that her bladder would eventually win out over her distaste for these spaces. She faintly remembered the scent of peanut butter and groaned inwardly.

She took a seat the booth furthest from the other patrons and ordered her choice of stimulant (coffee), a sandwich (_not_ peanut butter) and rummaged through her bag before the realisation hit her. _Shit._ She had forgotten something. She'd forgotten that damn piece of paper that told her the time and place of this infernal reunion. She picked up her phone and sent a message to her old school friends, asking the details. After all, she was only really coming down after they begged her to make an appearance. Well, that and the fact that she genuinely felt that she should visit her parents afte year gap between visits. At 27 years of age, she was still nervous at the prospect of making her mother _that_ mad with her. She'd seen what her mother was capable of under duress and it wasn't pretty.

Sure, there was other family to see. Siblings, aunts, uncles, etc. but it still felt wrong to upset her parents now that they were a little less clueless about her life and she was a little less reluctant to talk to them on the phone about how life was actually progressing. She'd ended a 2 year long relationship several months back and knew that her mum would be agonising over the details and worried sick that her daughter would die alone with her cats. Her father, however, seemed grateful that another year had gone by without a "guess what, I'm pregnant!" call from either of his children.

After no response she sighed and realised that a waitress was standing over her. She was saying something.

"What?"  
"How's your meal?" repeated the waitress. She was easily forty, with a cartoonishly oversized beehive hairstyle and nails that resembled claws due to their excessive length. They were painted a sickening shade of pastel pink. _How on earth could she use her hands with those things?_

"It isn't bad if you compare it to the food they serve in prison."  
"huh?" asked the waitress, now tapping her foot against the linoleum. It caused her whole body to jiggle with each tap and the talons clicked as they impacted eachother with each rock of her body.  
"Of course, we get cable there these days. It's pretty nice once you get used to the violence and the drugs." She smiled as the colour drained from the waitress's face. This was fun. "I could show you a neat way to get a tattoo if you'd like…?" she teased, deadpan so as not to ruin her fun. It was always too easy in smaller towns and remote places. In bigger cities, people would call you on your bullshit or a real criminal/drug dealer/prostitute/deranged ex- conjoined twin would walk in and teach you a lesson for making fun of them. Ah, how she'd missed being a smartass in public places without a fear of retribution from the genuinely unfortunate.

After another couple of hours of driving she was pulling in to familiar streets. The houses, churches, shops… even the office buildings filled her with the similar sense of nausea and nostalgia. She didn't know whether to be glad to be home or go on a murderous rampage "Carrie" style before hiding out in the woods and starting a new life as a woodcutter with a man named Chuck for the rest of her being. After checking her phone and realising the battery had died, she resigned herself to pulling into the old high school. She watched for a while. It was lunch break and kids were wandering around the school grounds. They all looked the same, almost _exactly_ the same as they had when she went there ten years before. Same people, different faces. _I wonder if I can find me?_ She thought absently as she grabbed her bag and headed into the administration building.

"Can I help you?" asked a tired looking woman with a greying perm. She had cup-o-soup stains on her blouse and a gold locked bracelet that dangled with each motion of her hand as she tried to type something into the computer in front of her.

"I'm looking for the place and time of the ten year reunion tomorrow".  
"Sure, Mrs…..?" the receptionist looked up, an expression of pure boredom plastered across her face.

'_Join the exciting world of education for fun like this and SO much more', _she thought to herself, a slight smirk on her face.

"_Miss_, actually. The time and place being…?"

The receptionist sighed and heaved herself out of the squeaky office chair to a stack of papers on a nearby desk.  
"We expected a lot of people like you to forget, so we printed out extras. After all, we remember how good your memories were regarding school hours, losing property and paying school fees on time."

One more trip in the car and she'd be back at her teenage home-slash-hell for the night. Driving all day was tiring. Besides, she could call a few old friends courtesy of her parent's landline- something she hadn't bothered with since she moved next door to someone with unrestricted Wifi. Finally, she pulled into the driveway, Before she could think, she heard a voice boom out to her.

"Hey, kiddo!" cried Jake, his usual smile plastered across his face. "How was the drive?"  
"Daria!" exclaimed Helen. "You're _finally_ home, I was getting so _worried… _you didn't answer my calls and I thought—"

"Mu-uu-um!" came a third voice. "Way to make it home on time, Daria." Quinn looked at her appraisingly "woooow, looking _good. _Are those actual shoes? You may rejoin the human race _after_ all, I can't _believe_ you finally got rid of those combat boots….."  
"The're still Doc Martens" smirked Daria.

She was home again, like it or not. Still, she felt like _Daria_ again. Now to call Jane and see if she could escape the inevitable interrogation awaiting her during dinner.

End Chapter 1.

Let me know how you like it. I wanted to give it a good long intro to build up the trip and the thinking time. This is the first fic I've written in aaaages so don't judge me too harshly. Reviews are always much appreciated.


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